Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Oddly enough, Vasya is quiet as we go to the jewelry store. No laughter, no smirks, no off-color jokes. Instead, we walk in silence as cars worth a hundred grand or more pass us in the street, the palm trees on the side of the road swaying in the wind.
“Are you okay?” I finally can’t resist asking as I browse the cases and their sparkling treasures.
“Yeah. Fine.” Short. Vasya’s eyes are on a necklace glittering with diamonds.
I finally find a pair of earrings, and the manager is boxing them up when Vasya points to the necklace he’s been staring at.
“I want to see that.”
Vasya wears a necklace himself, a small Eastern Orthodox cross with three crossed bars. But the one he’s pointing at is dainty, a star with long points and diamonds across the rays.
The manager takes the necklace from the case, and Vasya fingers the pendant before removing it from its velvet display.
“My mom had a necklace kind of like this,” he says, a small smile curling one corner of his mouth.
The manager returns to boxing the earrings I bought. With the chain slipping over Vasya’s long fingers, he moves behind me and drapes the necklace over my head before I know what’s happening.
“I want to see what it looks like on you.”
His words slither across the back of my neck, raising the hairs there, and I freeze as the cool chain settles on my warm skin.
Vasya’s blue eyes settle on my reflection, taking in the necklace before rising to meet my gaze.
“It looks good on you,” he says, and I have no idea what to say, with every word stuck in my throat.
Before I can think, Vasya’s head dips in the mirror, and I feel his lips brush the back of my neck, soft and sensuous. One kiss, then two, then a third, before I can take a breath around my wildly pounding heart and tight throat.
The breath knocks me out of my shock, and I step away, reaching up to unclasp the necklace. What the hell was he doing?
“I’m ready to go home,” I tell him, holding the necklace out.
Vasya stares at me for a few more breaths, his expression unreadable, the blue in his eyes icy, before he takes it from me.
Nausea roils in the silence of the car on the way back to the estate. My heart is still pounding, making my fingertips tingle. I have no idea what to think or say, and I only give short answers when Vasya starts joking around with me as if nothing at all happened in the jewelry store.
I flee to the safety of my room when we return home, make some excuse about a headache, and throw up for the first time since the morning sickness started.
But it’s less about the baby and more about whatever happened with Vasya, about the chill I feel when I think of him and the disturbing emotions I saw in his eyes when he was staring at me.
I know I can’t tell Evgeny. The last thing he needs right now is me telling him his oldest friend made a move on me. I can’t cause trouble or a rift when Evgeny needs Vasya more than ever to help him deal with Tsepov. No. I have to keep it to myself for now.
I just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
23
EVGENY
Feeling the walls and the crowd closing in, I lift my gaze to the high, domed ceiling and trace the bright mosaic, the sun’s wavy spikes in deep oranges and golds catching and throwing the light below.
The Friends of the Public Library lit up the L.A. Central Library until it blazed with light, the marble floors so shiny I could almost see my reflection. L.A.’s elite packed the place, dressed in their glittering best, the gowns’ colors trying to compete with the vivid murals and mosaics on the walls.
“Evgeny Kucherov. I’m glad you made it tonight. I thought maybe you wouldn’t.”
My gaze drops from the ceiling to the man in a tux weaving toward me through the crowd. He shakes my hand and flashes a broad, too-white smile, and I tense at his words. The man is the L.A. County district attorney.
My poisoning hasn’t been made public. Dmitri guaranteed he’d taken care of both the hospital and the restaurant. Still, I don’t know how much has slipped to the police. I’ve seen district attorneys come and go, but this one has a slick smile and an even slicker way of learning things he shouldn’t.
I have my suspicions about the man’s connections but have never been able to pin anyone down. Instead, we remain wary of each other, both suspecting, but never able to prove anything.
“Oh?” I go with the simplest reply, one that gives nothing away.
“I heard you fell ill and were out of commission for a while?”